


Mistletoe and Memories

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: The Future is Bright: Paris and Beyond [6]
Category: Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Boys band performance, Charming Victorian, Christmas Eve, Coitus Interruptus, Confessions, Dancing together, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Front hall flirting, Holiday squee, Intimacy, Kitchen cuddling, Light Angst, Literary Banter, Marian in lingerie, Parenthood, Parlor passion, Pillow Talk, River City High Gymnasium, babies ever after, smexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Penny and Elly announce they no longer believe in Santa, Marian Paroo Hill wonders if Christmas is starting to lose some of its magic. But life with her vivacious husband, twin daughters and infant son is anything but humdrum...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Challenging Conversation

A few weeks before Christmas, when the Hill family was decorating the parlor for the holidays, Penny announced to her parents that she no longer believed in Santa Claus.

At first, Marian and Harold paused and simply looked at each other – as they all “decked the halls,” the two of them had been discussing in bright, cheerful voices how much the girls must be looking forward to Santa’s visit. But even though husband and wife had been preparing for this eventuality for awhile now, they hesitated to immediately confirm Penny’s suspicions.

It wasn’t until Elly declared she agreed with her sister that Harold gave his wife a resigned nod. Turning to face the girls, Marian said, “Well, no, girls, Santa Claus is not real, in the literal sense. But he is real in that he embodies the generosity, goodness and spirit of Christmas.”

“But it’s still a lie, isn’t it?” Penny asked, looking a bit crestfallen.

Putting down the glass-spun Christmas ornament he had been about to hang on the tree, Harold knelt and drew both Penny and Elly into a hug. “It’s not a lie, exactly,” he gently explained. “Since children have difficulty understanding such lofty ideas, Santa Claus is a way that parents can use to teach them about these things.”

Penny gave her father a bewildered look. “But why can’t parents just tell kids to be generous and good?” she asked sensibly.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Harold asked with a chuckle. “Do you remember lessons, if they’re boring?”

Penny grinned – the mirror image of her father. “Not as well,” she admitted.

“Not at all,” Harold teased, tweaking one of her curls. “But I don’t imagine you’ll ever forget Santa.”

Whereas Penny simply gave her father a small smile that acknowledged yet refused to completely concede his point, Elly beamed and said with a charming air of nostalgia, “No, we won’t ever forget him.”

Gratified that the conversation had gone more smoothly than she anticipated, Marian decided it was appropriate to make one final point. After Harold planted a kiss on each of the girls’ foreheads and withdrew to his favorite wingback chair, she said, “Girls, now that you are beginning to put aside childish things, please don’t forget how much you enjoyed believing in Santa Claus, and how magical it made Christmas for you. Every child deserves his sojourn in Fairyland, so please allow Robert to experience that magic, and arrive at the truth at his own pace.”

Though Robert had been sitting on his mother’s lap during this entire conversation, he was much too young to understand the significance of what was being said. Being barely older than nine months, Robert was wholly focused on the ornaments and garlands surrounding him, which he stared at with wide, fascinated eyes.

Always the more responsible of the two, Elly gave her mother a respectful nod and regarded her younger brother with a sweetly conspiratorial smile. Although Penny nodded her agreement as well, she still looked vaguely troubled.

“What’s the matter, Penny?” Marian inquired, her voice laced with gentle, motherly concern.

After hemming and hawing for a few moments, Penny looked Marian in the eye and asked in a sad voice, “Does this mean that God is not real, in a literal sense? Is God another fairytale that parents tell their children?”

After twelve years, Marian had learned to expect practically anything, when it came to her daughters. But somehow, she had never anticipated a question like this. When Marian’s sharp gaze alit upon her more dutiful daughter, Elly turned her head from her mother’s searching eyes and guiltily confessed, “Actually, I was wondering that about God, too.”

Stymied, Marian’s gaze dropped to Robert, as if by looking at him she could arrive at the perfect response she so desperately sought. But Christmas, so age-old and familiar to Marian, was still a strange, unfathomable world to him; it would be quite some time before he could grasp, even in the simplest terms, any concept of the divine. And seeing her innocent baby boy – her little angel – gazing avidly around the room, made her heart ache. It wasn’t so long ago that Penny and Elly were infants sitting in her lap, peering at all the lights and colors with enamored eyes. Now her daughters were growing up, and she could no longer answer all their questions.

But when Marian relinquished her cherished belief in Santa Claus, as all children must, it had never occurred to her to question the validity of God’s existence as well. As a young woman, Marian had gone through a period of questioning, but her pondering was solely limited to whether the faith she was raised in was the true religion – if, of course, one religion could indeed be called true (Mrs. Paroo, who had converted from Catholicism to Presbyterianism upon marriage, took the rather radical view that God was God and, for the most part, it didn’t matter which church one worshiped Him at).

But the matter of God’s existence was something Marian had never questioned at all – let alone when she was a girl of twelve. She did not pretend to have the answers to the mysteries of the universe, but she had always had been certain He existed. So even if logically, Marian could understand how her precocious and intelligent daughters might arrive at these conclusions, a larger part of her was alarmed that her daughters were entertaining such notions in the first place. As such, her first thought was that she must do something to keep them from straying any further down this dangerous path.

But what could she say? As she had always lived among God-fearing people – no matter what the doctrinal disputes – Marian never before had to list the reasons behind this deeply-held belief. And it was always challenging to articulate beliefs that formed the core of one’s existence – especially when one was caught off guard and had to do so on short notice. Marian knew she needed to tell her daughters something more than “He _does_ exist,” as they were no longer of an age where they would unhesitatingly accept such a simple answer. They were starting to question many things in greater depth, and what she told them now would be crucial to their burgeoning spiritual development. One misstep here and their faith in God could be irrevocably tarnished. But what could she say?

It didn’t help matters that in difficult situations like these, Marian had gotten used to relying on Harold – he could always come up with a good explanation on the spur of the moment that placated their daughters’ curiosity. She would have appealed to her husband for help, but she had never been quite sure of his beliefs on the matter. Certainly, Harold had always attended church with her, said grace at family dinners and led the girls in their prayers before bed, but the two of them had never discussed such subjects in depth. And Marian had never asked him if he believed in God. When it came to the matter of faith, she was of the same mind as Queen Elizabeth, and had “no desire to make windows into men’s souls.” It was enough that Harold quietly supported her as she fostered the girls’ faith and saw to their religious upbringing. And, Marian acknowledged, she didn’t particularly want to know if the answer was no.

Indeed, Harold said nothing, seemingly content to leave the explanations to her. So after pausing to gather her thoughts, Marian said, “God is a much different matter than Santa Claus, girls. I” – she glanced at her still-silent husband – “we would never tell tales about something so important. God exists, but Santa Claus does not – at least, not in the same way that God does. My answer to these questions would have been the same, no matter how old you girls were when you asked them.”

“But would you have really told us Santa Claus didn’t exist, if say, we were only six?” Penny asked skeptically.

“Yes, wouldn’t that have spoiled the magic?” Elly added.

“If you had asked, I would have told you the truth,” Marian said honestly. “We expect you girls never to lie to us, so it’s only fair we wouldn’t lie to you, either.” _We might tell half-truths or conceal certain pieces of information_ , she reflected as she met Harold’s gaze and saw the amused gleam in his eyes, _but that was to be expected, and something the girls would come to understand when they grow up and have children of their own…_

“But how do you know God is real?” Penny persisted.

Yet again, Marian was stymied. For her, the answer was experience and intuition, but she wasn’t certain these were concepts her girls were ready to accept. Even though Penny and Elly were starting to lose their childish credulity and develop the rational skepticism of the adult mind, ambiguity was still a rather foreign and frightening idea. It was plain from their worried expressions that they still craved certainty about the way the world worked, even if they could no longer be satisfied with simple answers to their questions. And as their devoted mother, Marian longed to give her daughters that certainty.

But Marian was also wise enough to know there was no delaying the inevitable. “Well, we don’t know with one-hundred percent certainty whether God exists or not,” she admitted, her voice calm and steady despite her nervousness. “No one does. No one can know that for sure, not until they’ve died. But even though we cannot see or prove God’s existence, we can still have faith. God sent us the prophets and His son so we could know He exists. As Jesus said, ‘blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.’”

The girls nodded thoughtfully and, as the apprehension in their expressions faded, Marian began to relax. _Lord, please guide our girls’ hearts as they undertake their spiritual odysseys_ , she prayed. She looked at Robert, who was now eying the Christmas tree with great interest. _And please watch over our dear son, as well._

But before Marian could shift the conversation to safer topics, Penny turned to Harold. “Do you believe in God, Dad?”

Marian’s eyes snapped from Robert to her husband’s face, and she gazed at him with silent, anguished appeal.

But Harold didn’t appear to notice – at any rate, he didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he regarded his daughters with a pensive expression. Then, after several tense moments during which Marian’s stomach tied itself into horrible knots, he said, “When I was a child, I believed in God just like every other child. But when I grew up, other things became more important. For a very long time, I never thought of Him at all, one way or the other. It wasn’t until I met your mother that I started to think seriously about the subject, more seriously than I ever had before. For the first time, I not only thought of God, I fervently hoped He did exist.” Harold paused and sought Marian’s eyes with his. “Honestly, I still don’t know if He does. But when I look at our family, and all the other blessings I’ve been fortunate to receive, I believe that He just might, after all.”

As Marian felt herself welling up with tears of relief and gratitude, Harold rose from his chair and came over to sit next to her on the sofa. After planting a brief but affectionate kiss on his wife’s cheek, he turned and stroked his son’s soft brown curls. Robert, who had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, fidgeted slightly and gave a few drowsy blinks before lapsing into another doze.

After a few moments, Marian noticed Penny and Elly were gazing at the two of them with quiet awe. She couldn’t help sharing her daughters’ sense of amazement; though she and her husband were no longer averse to the girls witnessing kisses and other, minor affectionate gestures, such occasions had never before been coupled with Harold so openly displaying his vulnerability in front of the entire family. Previously, Marian had been the only witness to her charming and confident husband’s rare moments of doubt and uncertainty; with their daughters, Harold cultivated the image of the wise, all-knowing father who always had a solution for every situation, whether it was to engage in a moment of levity, provide solace and a sympathetic ear, or offer an honest but appropriate answer to a question.

Once established, most men would have stubbornly clung to this role out of pride. But yet again, the clever professor had displayed his ability to analyze a challenging situation and come out on top: Instead of looking chagrined that their beloved dad did not have all the answers, Penny and Elly’s expressions were filled with gratitude and guilty relief. They had taken quite a risk in voicing their concerns and, instead of dismissing, belittling or scolding them, as many parents in God-fearing River City might have done, Harold had treated them with the utmost care and consideration – and took quite a risk, himself.

“I’m sorry for doubting,” Elly said, sounding subdued.

“Me too,” Penny softly agreed.

Marian shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, girls,” she said gently. “You’re simply asking questions that many philosophers and great men have struggled with throughout history. As Socrates said, ‘the unexamined life is not worth living.’”

Elly nodded, apparently satisfied to leave things at that. But Penny, who was merely emboldened by her mother’s reassurance, smiled and said, “If God does exist, then why doesn’t He show Himself to everyone and prove it, once and for all?”

Elly elbowed her sister. “Hush – you’re going to get us in trouble if you keep asking so many questions!” she hissed.

Marian laughed. “You’re all right, girls – even if they did poison Socrates. But I do think there’s been enough heavy philosophical rumination for one evening. It’s time for you two to get to bed.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “But – ”

“Listen to your mother,” Harold said firmly. “No one, least of all your poor, tired parents, can contemplate the answers to all life’s mysteries in one evening. You have plenty of time tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that to think about the subject, and draw your own conclusions. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

XXX

Later, after the girls were tucked in for the night and husband and wife were putting Robert in his crib, Marian turned to Harold. “You were very honest,” she said admiringly. “And yet, you were still as eloquent as ever. How do you do it?”

He gave her his trademark grin. “Well, what else could I have done but told the unvarnished truth? These are questions I grappled with when I was their age – questions I still grapple with. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone I could really ask them to – my mother was a devout Christian and would have been horrified that I was voicing doubt – so I was forced to come to my own conclusions, about God’s existence and other matters.” His grin faltered. “And you know what path that led me down. I want our girls to feel they can talk to us about anything. If they can’t talk to us, they’ll talk to others – others who might not have their best interests in mind. I want us to be the ones guiding our daughters – not the world.”

Marian nodded. “Belief in God is something every person has to decide for one’s own self,” she acknowledged. Then she sighed. “One just hopes one’s children arrive to similar conclusions as oneself.”

Harold chuckled gently. “Not everyone is so fortunate to have your steadfast faith, Marian. Some of us are plagued with a bit more uncertainty in that arena.”

Marian gave her husband a sad smile. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with these thorny subjects so soon – I was hoping it would be at least a few more years before the girls began to ask such challenging questions. Then I might have been a little better prepared to answer them.”

Harold sighed. “I was hoping it would be a few more years before they stopped believing in Santa Claus,” he said ruefully.

For a moment, they stood there and looked at each other with wistful smiles. Then Harold drew Marian into his arms.

“Penny and Elly are growing up,” he said gravely.

“Yes, they are,” she agreed, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

As Harold stroked Marian’s hair and bestowed tender kisses upon her curls, she moved her hands along his back. Though their embrace started out as an innocently affectionate caress, Harold’s mouth soon discovered the sensitive spots on her neck, and he unashamedly began to nuzzle them. Smiling at her husband’s eternally amorous nature, Marian moved closer and subtly but suggestively pressed her hips against his, delighting when his breathing began to quicken.

Marian was just about to suggest they retire when Robert let out a small whimper. Ever the dutiful parents, they immediately ended their embrace and turned their full attention to their son. Thankfully, when Marian laid a gentle hand upon Robert’s cheek and crooned a soft lullaby, he subsided and fell fast asleep once more.

“The girls might be getting older, but we still have many years of Santa Claus to go, don’t we, Robert?” Harold fondly asked their sleeping son.

“If the girls don’t inadvertently spoil things,” Marian said wryly.

Giving her the ardent grin that always made her heart beat faster, Harold wrapped his arm around Marian’s still-slender waist and began to lead the way to their bedroom. “Look on the bright side, darling,” he said in his low, velvety voice. “If they do let the cat out of the bag, it would leave us with more time on Christmas Eve for other activities… ”


	2. Christmas Eve Exercises

Over the next few weeks leading up to Christmas, Marian thought often about her parlor conversation with Penny and Elly and, resolving that next time she wouldn’t be caught so unawares, prepared salient replies to difficult questions her daughters might potentially ask in the future. The librarian also added Aquinas, Erasmus and Kant to the list of authors she planned on introducing the girls to as they matured into young women over the course of the next few years.

Marian knew she wasn’t the only person in their family who was thinking about these things. Baby Robert, of course, remained blissfully ignorant of the entire affair. And Elly, thankfully, appeared to have drawn her conclusions and was comfortably ensconced once more in a God-fearing worldview; she said her bedtime prayers and attended church with as much reverent solemnity as she always had. But Penny, on the other hand, still seemed ambivalent about the divine, and had grown a bit more somber and thoughtful in her moods. It was a subtle change – when she was in public, the girl was as boisterous and tenacious as ever – but there was a new gravity to her demeanor that any loving, attentive parent could easily perceive. Marian had certainly noticed her eldest daughter’s newfound tendency to ruminate, and she knew her keenly observant husband must have been aware of this as well.

But even though Marian’s mind whirled quite busily as she mulled over plans for her daughters’ continued theological education, she did not broach the subject with Penny or Elly again, thinking it best to wait and see if they approached her. Nor did she discuss her contemplations with Harold; they were both preoccupied with preparations for the annual Christmas Eve exercises and, during the rare occasions when husband and wife managed to snag a meal or an evening alone together, she craved lighter topics of conversation.

When Marian learned that Penny was to be the angel in the children’s nativity pageant, she was highly pleased with this turn of events – what better way to reinforce the importance of Christmas and God’s love for humanity? – but she also wondered just how much of a final say Harold had had in this decision. This was the first year the nativity pageant would incorporate singing as well as recital and, as the leader of the River City boys’ band, the music professor was heavily involved in the staging. Initially, Marian was resolved not to pry; though Harold had proved his deep respect for her beliefs that evening in the parlor, she was still hesitant to discuss the matter of faith with him. But curiosity soon got the better of her, and she couldn’t help casually mentioning this piece of news the next time she and her husband were alone for dinner.

As she expected, Harold’s reply went straight to the heart of the matter: “The ladies of the Events Committee were the ones in charge of casting, my dear little librarian,” he said with a knowing chuckle. “And they decided that Penny, with her considerable reciting and voice talents, would be best for the role.”

“What did Penny think about being cast as the angel?” Marian asked with some trepidation.

Harold grinned. “She’s already well on her way to memorizing the entire play.”

At that, husband and wife burst into laughter. _Trust Penny’s penchant for performing to overcome her uncertainty about religion!_ Marian reflected as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes.

But later, when the librarian was washing the dishes, Harold sidled over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Marian… Mrs. Shinn and the others might have made the final decision, but they were amenable to suggestions from the music professor,” he confessed in a low, earnest voice.

Normally, Marian would have given her husband a scolding smile and reveled in her triumph of having known the truth all along, but something made her remain serious. “Why did you do it, Harold?” she asked just as quietly.

In response, the music professor gently removed the plate from his wife’s hands, and turned her to face him. Any inclination to protest dissipated the moment she saw the deep devotion in her husband’s eyes.

“I love you, Marian,” Harold said softly, his voice tender and heated all at once.

Marian reached out and, grabbing her husband by the lapels of his suit-coat, pulled him into a passionate kiss.

XXX

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, it began to snow heavily. Normally, snow on Christmas Eve was a cause for celebration, but with the evening’s festivities now in jeopardy, many River City-ziens paused every so often in their bustling holiday preparations to warily eye the weather. Slated to play the plum roles of the angel and the Virgin Mary in the nativity pageant, Penny and Elly were especially worried that the Christmas Eve exercises would be cancelled and, instead of clamoring for permission to play outside, slumped listlessly on the bay-window seat as they watched the snowfall with doleful expressions.

Refusing to despair – the almanac had said the evening would be clear and cold, and the publication had proved accurate in its predictions often enough to be trustworthy – Marian calmly sat on Harold’s wingback chair and mended a rip in the hem of Elly’s costume. Although the light was sufficiently bright in this spot, the librarian squinted as she stitched a particularly jagged section, pausing several times to press her spectacles closer to her eyes. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Marian wondered how in heaven’s name Elly managed to shred her robe like this. Normally, it was Penny whose clothes required such meticulous mending, as the adventurous girl was always getting into one scrape or another.

Through sheer determination, Marian finally persevered in fixing the robe to her usual immaculate standards, but as she knotted the end her seams and snipped off the extraneous bits of thread, she sighed again. Three decades of constant reading and sewing were slowly but inexorably taking their toll on her vision. If this difficulty persisted, she would have to get her prescription adjusted yet again – and she had just done so only six months before! Glancing at Robert, who was lying quietly in his bassinet by the sofa and staring up at the Christmas tree with entranced eyes, Marian fervently hoped she would be able to see well enough to handle the influx of torn clothes her son would surely bring.

Letting out a third and final sigh, Marian turned her gaze to her gloomy daughters and said with good-natured exasperation, “Your robe is repaired, Elly. Please try to be more careful about minding your hem in the future.”

“Mother, I already told you it wasn’t my fault my hem got ripped!” Elly protested, stung. “Teddy kept accidentally stepping on it during dress rehearsal.”

Marian’s eyes widened at her youngest daughter’s unusually impertinent response. “Elinor Jane, there’s no need to take that tone with me,” she admonished.

Elly lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she immediately apologized – though her expression still glowered.

“Well, I suppose a person can only control where her own feet land,” Marian allowed. “Still, it’s advice that bears repeating, especially as all your hems will move a bit closer to the floor in the near future” – she gave a stern look to Penny, who had started to snicker – “and that goes for you, too, Penelope Anne. I don’t want to have to mend your costume at the last minute, as well!”

Now it was Elly’s turn to snicker as her sister’s face darkened with resentment. After shooting back a glare, Penny turned to Marian and declared in a sing-song voice, “Oh, you won’t have to worry about that, Mother. Even if I was the one who had to play Mary to his Joseph, I’d never let that clumsy Teddy Washburn come within five feet of me! Not only that, he keeps singing the last line of _Away in a Manger_ dreadfully off-key!”

As Penny demonstrated her assertion with an impromptu rendition of the song, Marian repressed a smile. Having attended some of the rehearsals, she ruefully had to admit Penny’s imitation of Teddy was right on the mark. But such uncharitable behavior must never be encouraged; Marian opened her mouth to scold her daughter yet again.

But before the librarian could say a single word, Elly bristled and rose to Teddy’s defense. “The tune is tricky to get the hang of in that part, and Teddy’s doing the best he can! Why are you always so hard on him?”

Penny’s laughter came to an abrupt halt, and she scowled at her sister. “Well, why do _you_ like him so much?” she retorted. “He has absolutely no appealing qualities, as far as I can see… ”

As the girls argued back and forth, Robert started to fuss in his bassinet. Once again, Marian opened her mouth to issue a reprimand. And once again, someone beat her to it.

“Penelope Anne and Elinor Jane, you’d better go upstairs and get ready – we’re leaving for the gymnasium in half an hour,” Harold’s booming voice echoed down the hall from the music room.

Even though they never dared to disobey a direct order from their father, the girls froze, exchanging uncertain looks. Penny cast an apprehensive glance out the window. “But what about the snow?” she whispered.

Marian thought it was high time she got a scolding in edgewise. “You heard your father, girls,” she said firmly as she headed over to the bassinet and lifted her crying son into her arms. “Go upstairs – _now_.”

Harold suddenly clattered into the parlor, making them all jump. “The snow’s finally beginning to lighten!” he said cheerfully, the relief in his voice evident. “So it looks like the Christmas Eve exercises are still on!”

Her expression brightening, Elly snatched up her costume from the arm of Harold’s wingback chair and scampered off. Penny also scrambled upstairs after her sister, though strangely, she still looked anxious.

As Marian comforted Robert, whose whimpers were thankfully beginning to ebb into soft, contented coos as he clung to his mother, she gave her husband a puzzled, questioning look.

But the music professor appeared just as mystified by his vivacious daughter’s odd, keyed-up demeanor. “Stage fright?” he suggested with a bewildered shrug.

Marian gave Harold a pensive nod as she continued to cradle their now happily-burbling son.

XXX

The first thing Marian noticed when they arrived to the high school gymnasium was that it was much more packed than usual. Like the Fourth of July exercises, the Christmas Eve exercises had long been a mainstay in the River City events calendar and, despite Harold’s vast talents for putting on a good show, these two traditions were still firmly controlled by Mayor Shinn. As a result, the exercises had retained a good deal of their stodginess throughout the years – though Harold did whatever he could to convince the mayor to liven up the festivities a little. This year was quite a triumphant breakthrough for the music professor, as the mayor had finally consented to allowing the incorporation of Christmas carols into the normally dull-as-dishwater nativity pageant.

As Marian took her place at the piano, she looked in the direction of the River City boys’ band and caught her husband’s eye. Harold grinned and winked at her before turning back to the boys and tapping his baton for silence. Thanks to his genius for publicity, word had traveled quickly about the new, musical nativity pageant – and the ensuing controversy had drummed up quite a crowd for the performance.

Indeed, those River City-ziens who came to the exercises expecting to be shocked were not disappointed. The boys’ band’s first number, _Silent Night_ , began at an appropriately sedate pace, and young Harry Djilas sang the words with the proper, humble demeanor, but when Harold motioned for the boys to increase their tempo after the conclusion of the first verse, the song picked up so much speed and Harry’s vocalization became so jazzy that more than a few audience members gasped at the irreverence of it all.

But as Harry sang his heart out about “shepherds quaking at the sight” and “glories streaming from heaven afar,” something wonderful happened – some of the more daring River City-ziens began to clap along. The merriment quickly became contagious, until nearly everyone in the gymnasium was on their feet, transformed from skeptical spectators into hearty participants. When Harry sang the final note and the band concluded with a grand flourish, the rhythmic clapping became thunderous applause, and the cheering and whistling went on for such a long interval that Tommy Djilas crashed his cymbals together a few times in a futile attempt to restore order.

As the audience continued to engage in their rousing display of Christmas spirit, the members of the school board – Ewart Dunlop, Olin Britt, Oliver Hix, and Eddie Squires standing in for his late father – came onstage. The River City-ziens immediately quieted. Since Jacey Squires had passed away during the Spanish flu epidemic, the remaining members of the school board seldom sang in public – to see them performing together like this was a rare treat.

Indeed, once the quartet finished their Christmas medley, enthusiastic clapping and cheering erupted afresh – so much so that the men were obliged to sing two encores. Having prepared for this inevitably, they happily complied. Thus emboldened, the River City-ziens began to clamor for a third encore, but the exhausted, beleaguered quartet finally managed to make their exit when Mrs. Shinn marched onstage, flanked by the members of the Ladies’ Dance Committee. Realizing that the fun was over for the time being, everyone subsided and resigned themselves to watching a performance that, while not likely to prove as good as the first two acts, had the potential to be at least somewhat entertaining.

Again, none of the River City-ziens was disappointed. The Ladies’ Dance Committee performed an interpretive dance to the carol, _Twelve Days of Christmas_ , miming out each of the gifts “my true love gave to me.” In case their movements weren’t clear enough, the twelve ladies had dressed in grandiose and rather unwieldy costumes depicting their item. Though it was evident from Mrs. Shinn’s slight frown that she hadn’t intended their performance to be the great comedic display everyone seemed take it for, the mayor’s wife couldn’t help beaming when the audience applauded them with just as much enthusiasm as they had the boys’ band and the school board.

Now it was time for the performance that everyone had been waiting for: the musical nativity pageant. The children who were to take part in this tableau entered the stage and gazed out at the audience with nervous, excited expressions. Only Robert remained unaffected by the agitated atmosphere; as Baby Jesus, he slept peacefully in Elly’s arms.

After a brief pause, the children opened the nativity pageant with _O Come, All Ye Faithful_ – starting slowly and a tad unsteadily at first. But as their confidence increased, so did their tempo, until they were joyfully singing the carol as a clarion call to worship. Once the audience’s applause subsided, Teddy and Elly came forward to place Robert in his makeshift cradle, tenderly singing _Away in a Manger_ as they did so. When Teddy’s voice fell a trifle flat on the last line of the carol, Marian caught Harold’s eye again, and husband and wife exchanged a brief, amused grin. But Marian was impressed to see that Penny’s face remained diplomatically reverent – her daughter was the consummate actress.

After Teddy and Elly’s duet was concluded, Penny came forward to recite her first piece. Marian’s amazement increased; her daughter spoke the words with such genuine feeling and certainty in their truth that the librarian had to wonder if she had been reading more into the girl’s recent pensiveness than was actually there. Spellbound, Marian felt chills as her daughter followed up her speech with a beautiful rendition of _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ , which was delivered to the boys playing shepherds. After pausing to wait out another smattering of applause, Penny took a tin star out of the folds of her robe and went into her next recitation, exhorting the shepherds and Wise Men – Greg Washburn, Harry Djilas and Freddie Molloy – to follow her to the Savior. As the children made their way over to the corner of the stage where Teddy, Elly and Robert were, Greg, Harry and Freddie sang _We Three Kings of Orient Are_ , segueing right into _What Child is This?_ when they finally reached Jesus. Then Penny recited her third and final piece. As a conclusion to the pageant, the entire company sang _Joy to the World_ , during which Harold turned to the River City-ziens and gestured encouragingly for everyone to join in the singing.

As all those involved with the planning had hoped, the nativity pageant proved a smash sensation. After the tableau’s conclusion, it took quite awhile for the audience to settle down again; not even Mayor Shinn’s imposing glares and loud “harrumphs!” could quiet the boisterous River City-ziens. It wasn’t until Harold had the band strike up a jaunty tune that the townspeople hushed, not wanting to miss another wonderful performance.

“Thank you, Professor Hill!” Mayor Shinn said pointedly. Harold immediately motioned for his boys to cease playing, and the audience groaned – they knew what they were in for the moment the mayor had appeared onstage in his ludicrous Santa costume.

At the end of every one of these events, Mayor Shinn insisted upon closing the festivities with a recitation of the _Gettysburg Address_. Though Harold had met with some success in making changes to the program format, this was one area of the exercises he couldn’t budge the man a single, solid inch; the music professor’s attempts to convince the mayor to at least let the boys’ band play a patriotic instrumental in the background were always soundly vetoed. The only variation Mayor Shinn allowed was a change of costume; during the Fourth of July exercises, he dressed as Uncle Sam and, during the Christmas Eve exercises, he dressed as Santa.

As the mayor began his speech, Marian caught Harold’s eye again. This time, they exchanged a grimace. The _Gettysburg Address_ was the final performance of the evening and, after everything had gone off without a hitch, she knew her husband hated capping off such a wonderful success with this tedious scene.

Indeed, it wasn’t long before most everyone in the audience was yawning. Even Penny had difficulty maintaining her poise; she fidgeted just as restlessly as the other children in the pageant, who had all been instructed to pose in a silent tableau onstage until the mayor concluded his speech. Though Mayor Shinn frowned at the disquiet around him, he doggedly continued onward. But even with the steadily growing unrest, things were still going rather smoothly, and Marian thought they just might make it through this part of the exercises relatively unscathed, after all.

Then, without warning, Baby Jesus opened his eyes and began to emit a series of loud, boisterous burbles.

As the crowd started to snicker, mortification made Marian freeze in place; she had assured Mrs. Shinn that Robert would most likely sleep through the exercises. And even if he did awaken, he tended to be a quiet child – which was why the ladies of the Events Committee had selected him to portray Baby Jesus in the first place. Even when Elly – dear, responsible Elly – picked Robert up and attempted to silence him, he babbled and squirmed in her arms.

By now, everyone’s attention was fixed squarely on Baby Jesus. Even the mayor had stammered to a halt and was now standing stiffly onstage, looking rattled and at a loss as to how to proceed. Realizing she had to do something, Marian snapped out of her reverie and went over to retrieve her son from Elly. Usually, his mother’s touch would have been enough to get him to settle down. But Robert did not nestle into Marian’s arms; instead, he fussed and struggled against her.

“I’m sorry,” Marian said, looking helplessly at the irritated mayor as the audience’s snickers turned into full-blown laughter. “I don’t know what’s come over him!”

“It’s a sign!” a churlish, teenaged voice called out. “Seems like Jesus is just as tired of Santa as the rest of us are – we want to go home!”

As everyone gasped and tittered, Mayor Shinn’s eyes angrily scanned the audience. “Who said that?” he demanded to know. “Show yourself, you wild kid! Once I get a hold of you, you’ll be writing out the _Gettysburg Address_ with no less than five hundred hands – ”

But the heckler did not stand up, and no one betrayed his identity – they were all too busy chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

In search of a more convenient scapegoat, Mayor Shinn’s irate gaze fell upon Marian. “And as for _you_ ,” he began, shaking a scolding finger at her.

Marian bristled. She was far too old to be berated like a naughty child, and she refused to bear such treatment in front of the entire town – especially over events which she had little control! “Mayor Shinn,” she said, just as sternly.

As several people let out wolf-whistles in gleeful anticipation of the impending altercation, Harold rushed over and inserted himself in between the two of them. “Marian, Mr. Mayor, if you please – ”

“And _you_ , you – you – spellbinding cymbal salesman!” the mayor exclaimed, looking positively apoplectic. “I knew you were out to sabotage my speech when I found out _your_ son was playing the role of Baby Jesus – ”

Harold’s eyes narrowed – it had been a long evening, and even his patience had limits. “Now, Mr. Mayor – ”

Suddenly, Mayor Shinn’s false beard was yanked downward and he got a mouthful of moustache, forcing him to pause in his tirade. When he looked down to locate the source of the disturbance, Marian followed his gaze and had to repress a laugh; Robert had reached out and latched on to the mayor.

As Mayor Shinn stared at the infant in utter shock, Robert continued to tug at the beard’s white curls, letting out a gleeful gurgle when they bounced back into place. “Santa!” he said happily.

At that, the gymnasium grew extremely quiet. Harold gaped at his wife with thrilled eyes. “Marian,” he said, awed, “was that Robert’s first word?”

When the librarian gave her husband a delighted smile and confirmed that it was, the audience burst into applause.

Lest Mayor Shinn lose his temper again, Marian covered her son’s hands. “All right, Robert, that’s enough,” she said gently. “Santa needs to finish his speech.”

“Indeed, he does,” the mayor gruffly agreed – though his austere expression had softened somewhat.

At first, Robert let his mother remove his hands from the beard without a fuss, but when she took a few steps back from the mayor, the infant let out several piercing shrieks. In a desperate attempt to soothe her son, Marian began to rock him back and forth in her arms. But he refused to be calmed; blubbering and crying, he flailed his arms in Mayor Shinn’s direction. Not knowing what else to do, Marian held Robert out to the man.

Mayor Shinn initially balked at taking the boy. “This is all highly irregular,” he began to harrumph, but when the men in the crowd scowled and the women clucked their tongues at his refusal, the politician in him instantly surfaced. Flashing a wide, toothy grin, he reached out and accepted Robert from the librarian. “Yes, you’d better let me give it a try, Mrs. Hill,” he said in a patronizing, paternal voice.

Too relieved to take offense, Marian simply gave the mayor a grateful smile; just as she had hoped, Robert immediately stopped wailing once he was in “Santa’s” arms.

“There, that’s better now, isn’t it?” Mayor Shinn said triumphantly, as if holding the boy had been all his idea.

It wasn’t long before Robert’s joyful burbles turned into soft coos and, entwining his chubby little fists in the white beard once more, he settled down for a long nap. As the audience oohed and aahed, Marian reached out to take her sleeping son back, but Mayor Shinn shook his head. “Better let me keep him for awhile,” he advised, sounding genuinely pleased to do so.

Retreating to an empty corner of the stage, Marian and Harold watched the mayor as he continued where he had left off in his speech. When the music professor surreptitiously slipped his arm around the librarian’s waist, she gave him a sly, sideways glance and nestled a little closer. Normally, Marian would never have let her husband take such liberties in public, but everyone was so riveted to the charming tableau of Santa and Baby Jesus she figured no one would notice if the two of them engaged in a little clandestine cuddling. Besides, it was Christmas Eve. Indeed, everyone was so moved by the main scene taking place onstage that when Mayor Shinn concluded the _Gettysburg Address_ , he received a standing ovation – though everyone clapped as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Robert.

Grinning, Harold turned to his wife. “I didn’t think anything could top _Silent Night_ , or the school board’s performance, or the nativity pageant – but who knew that the _Gettysburg Address_ would turn out to be the high-water mark of this year’s Christmas Eve exercises?”

XXX

As the Hill family walked home from the high school, it started to snow again. Now that there was no longer the danger of anything fun being cancelled, Penny and Elly begged to be allowed to play outside the moment everyone entered the front door of the charming Victorian.

“You want to play in the snow now?” Marian asked, exasperated. “It’s nine thirty – a half hour past your bedtime!”

“But it’s Christmas Eve!” Penny pleaded. “How many times does it snow on Christmas Eve? Please?”

“No, you girls have already been up far too late, as it is,” Harold told her. He winked and added, “After all, Santa won’t be able deliver your presents until after you’ve gone to sleep… ”

Elly frowned and Penny rolled her eyes but, recognizing a firm parental decree when they heard one, the girls subsided and let out gloomy sighs. His expression softening, Harold offered to make them a cup of hot cocoa. Marian had to suppress a smile when Penny and Elly’s eyes lit up with triumphant glee – her clever daughters had once again managed to elude their proper bedtime. But as it was Christmas Eve, the librarian decided not to make a fuss.

As the girls eagerly followed their father into the kitchen, Marian excused herself to put a tired Robert to bed. The evening’s excitement had left him cranky and overwrought, and it took longer than usual to settle him down. By the time Marian came back downstairs, the kitchen was empty and three mugs and a pot were soaking in the sink.

From the sound of things – someone was softly playing Beethoven’s _Für Elise_ on the piano – Harold and the girls had retreated to the music room. Marian went to join them, pausing when she spotted Penny sitting on the bay-window seat in the parlor and staring forlornly out the window.

Marian quietly entered the room and took a seat next to her daughter. “Darling, what’s the matter?” she gently inquired.

Penny turned to her mother with a guilty expression. “Mom, was it wrong of me to play the angel in the nativity pageant?”

Marian was startled; she had initially expected her daughter to say something pertaining to Teddy Washburn. Though Penny had managed – to everyone’s shock – to give Teddy a compliment after the nativity pageant and wish him a Merry Christmas, she had scowled when the boy furtively handed Elly a small packet. When Elly immediately stowed this gift away, Penny’s displeasure had deepened, and she spent a good part of the walk home glowering.

“Why would you think it was wrong to play the angel?” Marian asked, mystified.

Penny shrugged unhappily. “I enjoyed being the angel, I really did,” she said earnestly. “But I don’t know if it was right, seeing as I’m not even sure I believe in God in the first place… ” She trailed off and looked uncertainly at her mother.

Marian shook her head. “Of course it wasn’t wrong,” she said firmly. “Was it wrong for your father to play Santa when you were younger? Even though he knew full well Santa wasn’t real, he was doing a good thing by bringing you children joy and teaching you about the spirit of Christmas.” Pausing for a moment – the librarian knew she had to tread carefully here – she added, “And remember, Penny, while no one can prove God exists, no one can disprove His existence, either.”

To Marian’s chagrin, Penny looked even more stricken. “I’ve been praying for a sign He _does_ exist. So when we got that snowstorm this afternoon, I couldn’t help wondering if it was a warning that I shouldn’t be the angel. But I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. You and Dad were so happy about the pageant, and everyone had worked so hard – I had to do it. But I don’t know if I should’ve. After all, people were punished all the time in the Bible for disobeying Him… ”

Marian folded her distressed daughter into a hug. “Oh, darling – God doesn’t want to punish us. He loves us – He loves us so much that He sent his Son to die for us, so we could be saved.”

“‘For God so loved the world… ’” Penny echoed. She gazed at her mother with anguished eyes. “I _want_ to believe in Him, Mom, I really do. But I just don’t know if I can… ”

As Penny buried her face in Marian’s shoulder and began to cry, the librarian caressed her daughter’s disheveled curls. “Darling, I _do_ want you to believe in Him,” she admitted. “But you can’t force yourself to believe simply to please me, or anyone else. You have to listen to the truths of your own heart. And in the end, what’s most important is that you learn from Jesus’ teachings, even if you can’t accept His divinity. Love your neighbors as yourself and be honest and upright in all things, as you have always been.”

Penny sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I wish I could believe in Him without question, the way Elly does,” she said wistfully. “She’s so certain, like you… ”

Marian planted a tender kiss her daughter’s forehead and handed her a handkerchief. “I love you just the way you are, darling,” she said reassuringly. “No matter what you believe, you will always be my Penny.”

Penny tightened her arms around her mother. “Thanks, Mom,” she said gratefully.

Rejoicing to hear the relief in her daughter’s voice, Marian smiled and said, “And now I think it’s time for bed. ‘Santa’ is getting awfully tired, and she’s still got to lay out all the gifts under the Christmas tree!”

After mother and daughter shared a conspiratorial laugh and a final hug, Penny stood and went upstairs. Marian also rose from the bay-window seat, intending to seek out Harold and Elly – and was surprised to come upon her husband standing in the shadows of the front hall.

“Harold!” she gasped. “I thought you were in the music room with Elly.”

He shook his head. “I sent Elly upstairs a little while ago. Sorry to frighten you; I was waiting for you to bid our daughter goodnight, so we could start our Christmas Eve celebration in the parlor.” His apologetic smile widened into an avid grin. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment all year long, my dear little librarian.”

Wondering just how much of the conversation he had witnessed, Marian could only smile nervously in return. “And how would you like to begin the festivities, Professor Hill?” she asked in what she hoped was a lighthearted, flirtatious voice.

Harold gestured to his mangled bowtie. “I thought you could help me untie this – Elly was practicing her knots earlier, and got it a little tangled.”

Marian raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Since when do you need me to untie your knots for you? I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to do that!”

“Please?” he pleaded with a boyish, teasing gleam in his eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve!”

Marian let out a good-natured sigh as she acquiesced to his request. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know whether I have three children – or four!”

In response, Harold simply chuckled. As he gazed fondly at Marian, she felt her nervousness return, and rushed to fill the silence with idle chatter. “Speaking of children, I’m amazed that Robert took to Mayor Shinn like that – normally, children his age are terrified of Santa!”

“Well, perhaps our dear daughters had something to do with it,” Harold replied. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve observed them telling our wide-eyed son all about old Saint Nick.”

“Really?” Marian asked, her curiosity piqued. Then she looked at her husband with suspicious eyes. “And they did this on their own initiative?”

Harold nodded, his expression sincere. “I thought it was charming – they certainly took their mother’s request to heart.”

“And to think, I had feared they were going to spoil things for him!” Marian marveled as she finished unknotting her husband’s bowtie.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Harold tugged at his collar until it loosened. “Thank you, darling,” he said gratefully. “I couldn’t ask for a better wife.”

Giving her husband a cordial smile, the librarian began to remove her hands, but he caught them in his and bestowed gentle kisses on her fingers. As Marian’s eyelids fluttered shut, Harold leaned in and whispered into her ear, “And Penny couldn’t ask for a better mother.”

Marian’s eyes flew open, and she stiffened in his embrace. “So you heard, then,” she said quietly.

“Every word,” Harold acknowledged, his arms stealing around her waist. “You handled it beautifully, darling – I couldn’t have said it half as well as you did.”

Marian let out a skeptical laugh at this piece of flattery, but nestled into her husband’s embrace as he pulled her closer. “Oh, Harold… ” she said, her admonition trailing off into delighted sighs when he began to softly kiss her neck.

“Mom… Dad… We’re ready for bed!” Penny gleefully called out from the top of the landing.

Exchanging rueful smiles, husband and wife quickly moved apart to a more respectable distance. “We’re coming up to say goodnight right now, darling,” Marian gaily replied.

But before she could make good on this promise, Harold pulled her back to him. After a quick kiss on the mouth, his ardent expression a silent promise that there would be more to come after the girls went to bed, he took Marian by the hand and led her upstairs to say goodnight to their daughters.


	3. Christmases Past and Present

After Penny, Elly and Robert were tucked into bed and happily slumbering away, visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, Harold and Marian changed into nightclothes and returned to the parlor for their own little Christmas Eve celebration, an annual tradition dating back to their earliest days of marriage. Harold hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Marian he’d been looking forward to this moment all year; some of his most treasured memories were their wonderful Christmases together, where he relished even more than usual the opportunity to shower his wife with the love and affection she deserved.

Gazing at the pile of gifts under the tree, Harold turned to Marian with an avid grin and asked, “Well, my dear little librarian, where would you like to start?”

“I think you should open one first,” Marian said magnanimously, gesturing for him to take his pick.

When Harold selected the box wrapped in shiny silver paper, Marian’s mouth quivered a little, as if she were repressing a giggle. Intrigued, Harold tore open the gift – and discovered several pairs of drawers and undershirts in plain, white cotton. “Well, talk about beauty being only skin deep!” he said jokingly.

Marian’s laughter burst out of her. “Of course you would have to pick that one first!” she said with amused exasperation.

“You’re the one who wrapped the box so prettily in the first place,” Harold protested, feeling a strange twinge of embarrassment. After giving up his life as a womanizing conman and settling down in River City, he hadn’t had to spend so much time and energy projecting an immaculate front and, as a result, had become a bit less meticulous and vain about his attire. Still, Harold had always prided himself on maintaining some standards, and wasn’t the type of man to cling to his scanties until they were reduced to rags. “I wasn’t aware my undergarment needs were so pressing they merited a Christmas present,” he observed, warily eyeing the drawers and undershirts.

“Well, you don’t do the laundry around here, do you?” Marian teased. “In nearly every wash for the past few months I’ve come across at least one undershirt or pair of drawers that was so worn it had to be thrown away!”

“Nonsense!” Harold said staunchly. He paused. “Although I have been wondering why that particular dresser drawer seemed to be getting emptier, lately… ”

Marian laughed again. “We have become comfortable together, haven’t we?” she asked fondly. “I remember when we were first married, I marveled at the pristine state of your undergarments – until I caught you throwing away perfectly serviceable drawers and undershirts with minor tears I could have fixed in a trice.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ve never seen you blush like that, before or since – but I should have guessed the charming Casanova would be too proud to bring such mending to his wife!”

Harold masked his sense of pique with a wry chuckle. “We’ve become comfortable indeed – in the early days, you were too shy to buy me anything but the finest suits for Christmas!”

Marian’s laughter trailed off into an affectionate smile, and she bent down to select a wide box wrapped in red-and-green paper. “Not all my gifts to you are practical, darling,” she said gently, holding the box out for him to take.

Harold gazed skeptically at his wife as he opened this new present, but as soon as he saw the emerald-green smoking jacket, a broad grin lit up his features. “Marian,” he said, awed, “is that real silk?”

As she nodded, Harold immediately exchanged his navy-blue flannel robe for this new garment. “Now, that’s more like it,” he said approvingly, admiring his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace mantle.

“So you like your new robe, then?” Marian asked, pleased.

Harold pulled his wife into a hug. “I love it,” he averred. Then he winked at her. “Makes me regret not getting you any lingerie this year… ”

Marian’s brow crinkled. “For the second Christmas in a row?” she asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Harold shrugged. “I still can’t find anything that matches the quality of your Paris undergarments, and I refuse to settle for second best.” To prove his point, he appreciatively eyed her ensemble; Marian was wearing a delectable satin-and-lace chemise, which peeped tantalizingly above the low neckline of her black, rose-embroidered silk chiffon peignoir.

“They are some of the most comfortable, well-made pieces I’ve ever owned,” Marian acknowledged with a sly smile as she nestled into his arms. When Harold began to drop soft kisses on her neck and run his hands along her silky curves, she smiled and said archly, “Shall we open the rest of our gifts, or would you like to unwrap this one, instead?”

Letting out a sigh laced with regretful longing, Harold ended their embrace. “I think I’ll save the best present for last – especially since you haven’t had the opportunity to open any of your gifts, darling.” Selecting a small, white box adorned with a sprig of mistletoe, he handed it to her.

Carefully removing the mistletoe and easing the box open, Marian gasped when she saw the silver bracelet within. “You went and got another date engraved on it, didn’t you?” she asked excitedly, examining the inside of the long-treasured bauble.

Harold nodded. “February 14, 1925 – Robert was the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve ever given me.”

With a beaming smile, Marian slid the bracelet onto her left wrist. “I’ve missed this – it’s been over decade since we’ve had an important-enough date,” she said wistfully.

“Not since the birth of Penny and Elly,” Harold agreed. With his eternal optimism, he cheerfully added, “But look at how many dates we’ve filled the inside of the bracelet with already! Our yesterdays certainly haven’t been empty.”

When he plucked the mistletoe from the end table and handed it to her, Marian accepted his offering with a smile. “No, they haven’t – just as you promised,” she said softly.

“Besides,” Harold said, taking her left hand in his and planting a kiss on it, “if I engraved every single occasion where something worth remembering happened, your arms would be covered with silver bracelets, my dear little librarian.”

“One does have to choose wisely which occasions to commemorate,” she concurred with a small smile, gazing wistfully at the sprig of mistletoe as she twirled it in her fingers.

“Exactly,” Harold replied, pleased that he had been able to bring his wife back from the threshold of a melancholy mood. Still, he felt a twinge of uneasiness – he had almost decided against engraving the silver bracelet because he suspected it might cause a flood of pensive nostalgia, reminding Marian just how many happy days and milestones were forever behind them. Though it was true they had already experienced several Christmases together, he looked forward to many more merry ones in the future – and he wanted her to look forward to them as well, instead of lamenting bygone days.

Marian raised an eyebrow at him, and the mistletoe grew still in her hand. “Shall we open more gifts?”

Realizing he had let the silence extend for too long, Harold chided himself for his foolishness. Here he was, getting lost in a reverie while his wife stood before him, just as beautiful and spirited as she had been the day they first met! Even now, time was something he always kept a careful eye on – and he wasn’t about to waste another moment. Giving Marian his trademark grin, Harold suggested, “Why don’t I put an old favorite on the Victrola instead – a musical interlude, if you will.”

“As long as it’s not the tango,” she archly retorted. “Recall what happened last time!”

Harold simply chuckled; since that eventful evening, they had actually grown rather proficient in the dance. But that wasn’t what he had in mind for tonight.

When the voices of the school board – including the dulcet tones of the late Jacey Squires – filled the room, softly crooning _It’s You_ , Harold turned back to his wife and held out his hand. Her expression softening, Marian came over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

As they danced in quiet, contented silence, their bodies swaying together in a familiar, practiced rhythm, Harold found himself surrendering to sentimentality once more. He had shared so many dances with Marian throughout the years: their adversarial first dance in the library, their charged waltz in the high school gym, their joyous Shipoopi on the Madison Park Pavilion, their breathless minuet at the Halloween masque, their close embrace the night of their wedding reception. Since then, they had kept up with the latest dance crazes as best they could, especially relishing the opportunity to learn and practice all the new steps in the nightclubs in Paris. Harold would never tire of dancing with Marian; dancing was one of his favorite ways of loving her, and he took great joy in the knowledge that she also relished these opportunities to love him back.

Even after _It’s You_ came to a close and silence descended upon the parlor once more, husband and wife continued to hold each other. Catching sight of Marian’s silver bracelet gleaming in the soft light as she absentmindedly began to twirl the sprig of mistletoe again, Harold brushed his wife’s ear in a gentle kiss and whispered, “Darling… do you remember our first Christmas together?”

XXX

As usual, Marian Paroo Hill had opened Madison Public Library on the day before Christmas. And no one in River City – least of all her husband – was surprised by this course of action.

When Marian initially informed Mayor Shinn that even after her marriage she intended to uphold her duties as River City’s librarian, he had been skeptical and a little scandalized – as had most everyone else in town. Married women never stayed in the workforce, which was one of the reasons the school board was so hesitant to hire young women as schoolteachers; dealing with the inevitable turnover was more inefficient and costly than simply hiring a man in the first place. Indeed, the mayor had even attempted to convince Marian to let them get on with the business of hiring someone new – though he did this with some regret, as he truly appreciated her frugality, self-discipline and organizational skills – but the librarian refused to consider resigning. First and foremost, she had practical concerns for retaining her occupation. Just because she had left home didn’t absolve her of her responsibility to her mother and brother – who would provide for them, if she did not? And now that Harold was bringing in more than enough income for the two of them, there would be a considerable increase in the resources she could devote to Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop.

But just as importantly, Marian loved her library – she wasn’t about to cede control of it to anyone else. Being a librarian gave her life a wonderful sense of purpose; she loved this unique opportunity to help shape eager young minds thirsty for knowledge and proper moral guidance. And, though she would never have admitted this to anyone, she relished the independence of earning her own income and making her own way in the world. Even marriage didn’t guarantee a woman eternal immunity from the necessity of employment to ensuring financial security – and a woman who was sixteen years younger than her husband was wise to heed such possibilities, as unpalatable as they might be. However, this was something Marian refused to worry too much about; Harold possessed a sense of health and vigor rivaling that of many men in their twenties.

Besides, in the end, it was Marian’s decision to make; Mr. Madison had left _her_ the position, as well as most of the books in the archives. Certainly, Mayor Shinn and the library board of trustees could have made things difficult for her if they chose – Madison Public Library’s maintenance and operations were primarily supported by the taxpayers – but thankfully they accepted her decision without too much fuss. In fact, once they had gotten used to the idea, the trustees appreciated her continued dedication; with her ingenuity and attention to detail, Marian had always maintained an extremely well-run institution while ensuring the budget stayed in the black.

Thankfully, Harold not only understood Marian’s desire to remain River City’s librarian, he actively supported her in her endeavors. He was not like other men, who might have felt threatened or unmanned by a working wife. But since when had Harold Hill ever been like other men? That was precisely why Marian loved him. And when she confessed to her husband her concern that she might not prove to be the wife he was expecting, he merely grinned and told her that was exactly why he wanted to marry her in the first place.

But on Saturday mornings – especially when the weather was cold and snowy – Harold _was_ like other men, in that he had a hard time letting his wife leave their bed without giving her one more kiss… bestowing one more caress… engaging in one more passionate tryst. And Marian was like most newly, happily-wedded women, in that she had just as much difficulty extricating herself from her husband’s warm embrace. On the morning of Christmas Eve – when most everything was closed, including Professor Harold Hill’s Music Emporium – the librarian was prepared for her husband to put up a similar fuss, and steeled herself to be loving but firm in her response. After all, if something as momentous as marriage hadn’t prevented her from retaining her occupation, Marian wasn’t about to let a little thing like the fact it was the day before a holiday deter her from opening the library.

It was therefore was quite the shock when, after giving her a brief good-morning kiss, Harold allowed Marian to rise from their bed without any protest. Certainly, her husband’s eyes twinkled with wistful regret and he sighed a little as she folded back the covers and got up, but he did not say a word, nor did he attempt to pull her back to him. At first, Marian was so miffed by this cooler-than-usual parting that her first impulse was to reclaim her spot in Harold’s embrace and give him a steamy kiss out of spite – before concluding with a mixture of irritation and amusement that her charming salesman was trying a new ploy on her, and she should be wary of his wiliness.

So Marian dressed and completed her morning ablutions with her usual pleasant smile – though she wondered with some trepidation whether her husband’s ardor was already starting to cool. Indeed, Harold seemed to have forgotten all about her; when she approached the bed to give him one final farewell before she left for the library, she saw he had once again burrowed beneath the covers and fallen asleep. Letting out a good-natured sigh, Marian planted a kiss on the top of her slumbering husband’s head and set off for the library.

XXX

Even on days when Madison Public Library attracted few patrons, Marian never considered her job a dull one. To her, the hours ticked by quickly and pleasantly whether the library was crowded or empty. The days preceding holidays were no exception – although she always made sure to close a few hours early, as a testament to the importance of celebrating these occasions with one’s family.

Today, however, the librarian couldn’t revel in her duties; all she could think about was getting home to her husband. Marian didn’t suppose she could blame Harold for letting her slip away so easily – time and again she had reiterated to him the importance of demonstrating her devotion to her occupation, lest the trustees decide a married woman couldn’t live up to the demands of running the library, after all. Yet she couldn’t help feeling chagrined at what now seemed to be a Pyrrhic victory. It was their first Christmas together – surely, Harold could have put up a little more fuss at letting her go.

When noon finally arrived, Marian made her usual inspection of the library before closing for lunch. There wasn’t too much to tidy up, as she could count on one hand the number of visitors she’d had that morning. But for the first Christmas Eve since becoming River City’s librarian, she posted her “Closed for the holidays” sign on the doors a full three-and-a-half hours early.

XXX

Marian had meant to surprise Harold by arriving home early – and surprise him she did. When she entered the vestibule of the charming Victorian and shut the front door behind her, she heard soft piano music emanating from the parlor – along with suspicious rustlings, as if someone was trying to hastily conceal his doings.

Although this sudden flurry of activity piqued her curiosity – and there was a pleasant little flutter in her heart at the realization that the tune playing on the Victrola was Handel’s _Minuet from Berenice_ – Marian didn’t wish to spoil any surprises, so she remained in the front hall and continued to unbutton her coat as if nothing were amiss. “Harold,” she called out in a casual voice, “I’m home.”

In response, Harold immediately thundered into the front hall to help her get settled. Marian’s heart flip-flopped even more when she saw her husband wasn’t his usual, impeccably groomed self: he was in his shirtsleeves, his bowtie was askew and his collar was undone.

“Well, you’re back a lot sooner than I expected you’d be!” Harold said in a bright, cheerful voice – though the accusatory note in his tone was unmistakable.

“The library only had two visitors all morning, so I thought I’d close early for the holidays,” Marian explained. On impulse, she reached out and smoothed back one or two curls that had fallen over her disheveled husband’s forehead. “I thought perhaps you’d welcome the additional time with your wife, but you seem quite preoccupied with other activities, already.” Her apologetic smile became a teasing smirk, and she turned toward the front door. “Perhaps I ought to go back to the library until my originally scheduled closing time, as it seems my presence is an unwanted intrusion – ”

His eyes widening in dismay, Harold grabbed Marian’s shoulders and turned her back to him. “You’re never an intrusion,” he firmly avowed. “You’re my wife, this is your home and it’s Christmas Eve – you belong here with me.”

As his arms wrapped possessively around her waist, the librarian laid her head on her husband’s shoulder and reveled in his ardent embrace. “Oh, Harold,” she breathed, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his sandalwood soap and bay-rum aftershave, “I’ve missed you so much this morning. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your plans, but I couldn’t wait to come home and spend Christmas with you.”

“Darling, you haven’t ruined anything,” Harold said soothingly, stroking her hair. “You just caught me a bit unawares, that’s all. If I were given the choice of everything being absolutely perfect or welcoming my wife home a little earlier than expected, I would take you every time, my dear little librarian. So what say we have some lunch? You arrived at the perfect time for that – I lost track of things and inadvertently skipped breakfast this morning, so I’m starved!”

Marian was still resolved not to spoil any surprises, but as Harold ushered her past the parlor on the way to the kitchen, she couldn’t help noticing that nearly every surface in their home’s second-largest room was covered with mistletoe. Not only were the fireplace mantle, bay window seat, end tables, wingback chairs and sofa festooned with artfully arranged clusters of the delicate plant, several strands of garlands crisscrossed the walls and ceiling.

“Harold!” she gasped, coming to a halt and gaping around their parlor. “How in heaven’s name did you manage to do all this in the few hours I was gone?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” he said innocently.

Marian eyed her husband skeptically. “Who was it, then?”

Harold grinned. “It must have been Santa Claus.”

She swatted him.

“Now, Marian,” he admonished, catching her hand in his and drawing her closer, “that’s not what you’re supposed to do under the mistletoe… ”

As a young girl, Marian had always let out scandalized giggles when she caught her parents sneaking kisses beneath the mistletoe during the holiday season – while secretly hoping that someday she’d be able to do the same thing with her own husband. But after the family moved to River City and Papa died, Marian had consigned these wistful fancies to the past, figuring such charming tableaus were just one more foolish dream that would never come true. But not only had this dream come true, it had happened to a degree that surpassed her greatest expectations. Marian’s initial imaginings were innocent: a few clandestine pecks on the cheek and, if they were alone together, her white knight might be so bold as to give her a fervent but close-mouthed kiss. Instead, her beloved clung to her in an intensely passionate embrace, his mouth and hands eagerly demonstrating the depth of his longing for her. The librarian had never dared to anticipate just how willingly she’d surrender to such amorous advances – nor could she have fathomed that her hips would press so provocatively against her husband’s as the two of them swayed back and forth to the stately rhythms of Handel’s elegant, romantic minuet.

Even more surprisingly, it was Harold who finally ended their embrace. “You must be hungry, darling,” he said gently but teasingly. “I can feel your stomach rumbling.”

“Famished,” Marian admitted with a rueful smile. “I didn’t eat any breakfast, either.”

“Well, far be it from me to let you continue your seduction on an empty stomach,” Harold admonished, waggling his finger at her and chuckling when the pink in her cheeks darkened into a full-fledged crimson. Winding an arm around Marian’s waist, he escorted her to the kitchen – stealing several kisses along the way.

After a brief but nourishing repast, husband and wife returned to the parlor to exchange gifts. Harold, of course, insisted on playing Santa first. After ensuring Marian was comfortably settled on the mistletoe-adorned sofa, he brought her one present after another – a rare book she had wanted for her personal library, a smart little glove-and-handkerchief box, a gorgeous shawl of crimson silk, an exquisite pair of ivory lace gloves, and a few pretty trinkets from River City’s jewelry shop that she had made casual but admiring remarks about during one of their autumn strolls together.

Thus far, Marian’s responses to Harold’s gifts had been gasps of delight and words of gratitude, but when she opened a garment box containing a sheer, harem-style camisole and drawer lingerie set, her breath caught in her throat. Despite the unsettling rush of blood to her cheeks, the librarian coolly raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Is this a present for me or for you?” she asked wryly.

Harold, who’d already been observing her reactions with avid enjoyment, gave his wife an unapologetically gleeful grin. “For both of us.”

“Both of us, indeed!” Marian scolded – though the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips softened the effect of her admonishment. They _were_ beautiful pieces and, despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t deny her husband had excellent taste in clothes.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Harold grinned even more broadly and opened his mouth to cement his victory with another retort. But before he could say a word, the librarian briskly rose from the sofa and declared, “I think it’s my turn to play Santa, Professor Hill.”

Harold’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “By all means, Madam Librarian,” he graciously conceded, taking the seat she had vacated.

Now it was Marian’s turn to delight in seeing her husband light up with genuine joy as he opened his presents. She had procured several gifts for her beloved: a brown seersucker suit in the most fashionable cut she could afford, a forest-green silk handkerchief for the pocket square, brown hand-stitched sheepskin gloves, a sturdy leather case for scores and other odds and ends the music professor constantly ferried back and forth between the emporium and their home. She had also bought him five white cotton handkerchiefs, onto which she had personally embroidered his initials in royal-blue thread.

“I gave you these in the hope that perhaps now, you’ll stop carrying around that horrible pink thing!” Marian teasingly informed her husband when he opened this latter gift. She expected Harold to laugh at this, but he simply stared at the handkerchiefs in awe, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Marian felt a twinge of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. “Is anything the matter, darling?” she asked in a carefully calm voice.

Harold’s eyes met hers. “It’s nothing, just… I haven’t had monogrammed clothing since I was a boy. My mother used to prominently stitch my initials onto all my blouses. I’m sure you can imagine how well that went over with my peers, but she took such pleasure in doing it I couldn’t bear to ask her to stop. It wasn’t until she caught a group of boys smearing mud all over my new Sunday suit that I had to admit to her it was the monograms that were causing all the trouble. After chiding me for letting the situation go on for so long without telling her, she went out and bought me all new shirts.”

“I’m sorry for bringing back such unpleasant memories,” Marian instantly apologized. “I should have realized monogrammed handkerchiefs were a foolish, stuffy idea – ”

Harold chuckled and shook his head. “How could you possibly have known? Besides, the memory is not unpleasant at all – ever since that day, my mother came up with the game of secretly embroidering my initials somewhere on my clothes. The faster I could find them, the greater my reward. Sounds simple enough, but you wouldn’t believe how clever my mother could be. It took me a little over a month to find the monogram on one blouse – she had sewn it right on the inside of my left cuff, but the letters were no bigger than a splinter. And she put my initials right at the end of a seam, so it looked like nothing more than a knot.” He paused and gave his wife an affectionate grin. “I love the handkerchiefs, darling, and will certainly make sure to carry at least one at all times.”

Marian smiled in return. “I spent a good deal of my free time in the past month on those,” she admitted. “Embroidering has never been my strong point, so Mama helped, as well.”

Harold stood up from the sofa and went over to the end table next to his favorite wingback chair. “Speaking of personalized gifts – I do have one more thing for you,” he said, pulling a small parcel out of the table’s drawer. All of his other presents to her had been wrapped in bright, colorful paper, but this box was simply adorned with a single, delicate sprig of mistletoe.

Marian knew what the gift was before she even opened it, but she still gasped when she saw it was indeed her beloved silver bracelet. Harold had originally given this bracelet to her at the end of August – the day they triumphantly led the boys’ band on a glorious parade through River City. That day, there had only been three dates engraved upon the inside of the bauble: July third, July twenty-third and August thirty-first. Now the bracelet was marked with three more significant anniversaries: October thirty-first, November twenty-ninth and December twenty-fifth.

Just as she had on that sweltering August evening, Marian eagerly exchanged the silver bracelet for the gold one on her wrist. A birthday present from Uncle Maddy, the gold bracelet had once been the librarian’s most treasured piece of jewelry. Now it served as a placeholder while she awaited the return of the silver one; Harold had borrowed it back from her a few weeks ago so he could get the additional dates engraved.

“Don’t get too used to wearing that bracelet, Madam Librarian,” Harold teased. “There’s room for several more dates – such as our first wedding anniversary.”

Marian laughed. “That’s not for nearly a year!”

“Well, a lot can happen in a year,” he retorted with a wink. “For instance, we could very well get a visit from the stork sometime next summer… ”

Other than the occasional sly remark from Harold, they hadn’t openly discussed the matter of children. Certainly, Marian never pursued such topics of conversation. Building a family with her beloved was one of the dear, sweet dreams the librarian secretly harbored, and she held this wish too close to her heart to risk the dashing of her hopes. So although she blushed and smiled at her husband, she quickly changed the subject.

“When Uncle Maddy gave me the gold bracelet on my twenty-fourth birthday, he also had something engraved on the inside. But it was nothing so romantic, of course.”

Her ploy worked. “What did he put on the bracelet?” Harold asked curiously.

Marian gave her husband a wry smile. “It was a Ben Franklin quote: ‘A good conscience is a continual Christmas.’” She shrugged. “Slim comfort at the time, but I did appreciate the gesture.”

Harold chuckled just as wryly. “Ah, yes – I gathered from the ‘Clean your finger before you point at my spots’ quotation on his statue in the town green that Mr. Madison had a fondness for old Ben Franklin.” He paused and took her hands in his. “But you deserve much more romance than a pious, dry quote, darling – and I’m planning on giving it to you, in spades.”

Giving her _that_ look, Harold leaned in to kiss her. But as much as Marian wanted to let him take her in his arms and demonstrate the truth of his words, she ducked his embrace. She still had one more present for her husband, and if she didn’t give it to him now, she knew it would be quite awhile before she would have the opportunity – there would be no resisting the siren song of the mistletoe a second time.

“Just one more thing, darling,” Marian promised as Harold let out a disappointed sigh. Slipping out of his arms, she retrieved a parcel that was stowed deep beneath the Christmas tree. Wrapped in plain, brown paper, it didn’t look like much. But when Harold opened the parcel, he gaped at his wife with stunned eyes.

Marian nodded. “That was Papa’s prized B-flat trumpet,” she confirmed. “He played it in the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.”

It was a few moments before Harold recovered his powers of speech. “Marian,” he said, sounding as close to tears as she had ever heard him, “I spent last Christmas alone in a hotel room in Chicago, wiling away the long hours in a liquor-fueled stupor. My only company was a stout Kentucky bourbon. That’s how I’ve spent most Christmases during the past decade – and deservedly so. Now this year, I’m being given a treasured family heirloom… ” He stopped speaking and swallowed. “It’s _too_ much, even for me. Marian, I don’t know if I can accept this… ”

“You _are_ family, Harold,” Marian replied, her voice quietly insistent.

Harold shook his head. “Only by marriage – you should give this to Winthrop,” he averred.

He tried to hand the trumpet back to her, but Marian smiled and placed her hands over his, pressing him to keep it. “Well, that was the original plan. That is – until a dashing, bombastic music professor came to River City and was instrumental in getting him his own cornet. Mama was adamant that Papa’s trumpet should go to you, and I wholeheartedly agree with her. You need a good instrument of your own, rather than playing on borrowed trumpets all the time. And perhaps,” she ventured with a blush, “we might one day pass the trumpet on to our own children… ”

In the course of their conversation, they had both ended up sitting together on the sofa; it was easy for Harold to reach out and pull Marian into his arms, and easier still for her to respond favorably to his ardent overtures. When he kissed her, she kissed him back just as passionately, and when he leaned in and bestowed several playful but eager nibbles upon her cheeks, neck and earlobes, she giggled and pressed closer to him.

It wasn’t until Harold began removing the pins from her hair that Marian spoke. “Professor Hill,” she said mischievously, even as she tilted her head to allow him better access to her chignon, “I don’t recall mistletoe allowing for such liberties… ”

He met her gaze with a grin as he continued to unpin her hair. “Did you happen to notice where the mistletoe leads, my dear little librarian?”

Marian idly glanced at the banisters on the stairwell, which were also liberally festooned with the plant. “I did, as a matter of fact,” she said nonchalantly.

Once Marian’s blonde tresses were resting in disheveled tangles around her shoulders, Harold swept her up in his arms and started heading toward the stairs. “One of the things I’ve always loved about you is your keen sense of observation.”

Marian simply laughed, content to let her husband lead her to more comfortable surroundings, but halfway up the stairs, Harold halted and lowered her to the ground. “Now it’s my turn to ask you to wait a minute, darling – I’ve forgotten something.”

“What did you forget?” she called after his departing form – although she suspected she knew exactly what he wished to retrieve from their parlor.

Unsurprisingly, Harold reappeared with the camisole and drawers. Gazing at his wife with a wide grin, he said, “I have an idea we won’t be coming back downstairs until tomorrow morning, and I would hate to see this gift sit down here neglected.”

Though Marian blushed furiously at such brazen salaciousness, she still managed to find a retort. “Isn’t it rather early in the day to be retiring?” she admonished. “We just finished lunch an hour ago!”

“I have a lot of lonely Christmases I want to make up for,” Harold replied, shrugging as if his words were mere, lighthearted flirtation.

But Marian saw real longing in his eyes. Influenced by that depth of feeling, she said honestly and without thinking, “I did tell you a few weeks ago I wanted to make all those horrible Christmases up to you.” When Harold grinned as if to make a ribald remark, the prim librarian remembered her embarrassment and immediately added, “I didn’t mean it _that_ way!”

Harold’s eyes widened with the same dismay she had seen earlier, when she had pretended to leave the house, and Marian realized she had made a terrible mess of things. “Wait,” she said frantically, trying to amend her statement into a sentiment that was affectionate but not crass. But there was nothing she could say either way – she would come across as too cold or too risqué, and she wasn’t sure which was worse. Utterly tongue-tied, the librarian stammered into silence and gazed shamefaced at her husband, waiting for whatever he had to dish out in return.

But Harold simply regarded her with kind affection. “I know exactly what you were trying to say, Marian, and it means the world to me.” He pulled her into a hug. “You mean the world to me.”

As he gently held her, Marian felt the blush fade from her cheeks. But she still couldn’t shake that lingering feeling of shame, though it was now for a different reason – she had once again rebuffed her husband’s attempts to make love to her. This time she had done so unwittingly, but the damage was done, nevertheless; Marian was in Harold’s arms, but his embrace was now as careful as it had been in the days they were still courting. _Was this how you were planning to make things up to him?_ her mind asked derisively.

Her embarrassment evaporating, Marian looked steadily and honestly at her husband. “I did mean it, that way,” she told him in a low voice, her hands finding their way to the camisole and drawers draped over his left arm.

The mood rekindled, Harold’s mouth descended hungrily upon hers as they continued upstairs – and for the first Christmas in a long time, neither of them felt lacking in true companionship.

XXX

“We’ve been extremely lucky, haven’t we?” Marian said fondly. “Twelve wonderful Christmases, two daughters and now a son – and hopefully, when the time comes, Robert will play the B-flat trumpet with as much gusto as his father.”

For Harold, Christmas had always been a time of memories – whether he liked it or not. Lately, even his happy memories were tinged with a little sadness; as thrilled as Harold was to have a son to carry on the family name and tradition, he couldn’t help remembering his brother-in-law’s stillborn second child. Thomas Harold Paroo would have been two-and-a-half years old if he had lived.

“We’ve been extraordinarily lucky,” he said gravely, pulling his wife close.

He had allowed too much darkness to enter his voice; Harold felt Marian shift in his arms to look at him. Desperate to lighten the mood, he met her questioning gaze with a mischievous grin. “You really were a blushing rose in those days – do you remember how I whispered passages from _Fanny Hill_ to you that night? I thought you’d faint from embarrassment! But once you got over the initial shock, you enjoyed yourself quite a bit… ”

As he hoped, Marian was utterly distracted – her eyes narrowed, even as her cheeks turned the most charming shade of crimson. “Yes, I do remember that, _Mister_ Hill,” she scolded. “Only you would be crass enough to quote _Fanny Hill_ to an innocent, retiring wife – and on Christmas Eve, too!”

“Not so innocent or retiring anymore,” Harold chuckled, shamelessly egging her on. “As I recall, Madam Librarian, you quoted that particular work to me very extensively when we were in Paris… ”

“Only Paris?” Marian asked in a mock-outraged voice. When his eyes widened in surprise, she pointedly added, “How could you forget my Christmas present to you our second year together?”

Harold couldn’t contain his grin of sheer glee at that particular memory, but he quickly arranged his features into a more neutral expression. “Hmm,” he said vaguely, “now that you mention it, I think it might have had something to do with _Fanny Hill_ – along with a roaring fire and a cozy bed of blankets on the parlor floor, long after the girls had been put in their crib for the night – but I’m having trouble recalling the particulars.” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “Perhaps if you refreshed my memory… ”

As Harold’s soft kisses progressed to love-bites, Marian let out the throaty little laugh that always made his pulse race faster. “Perhaps if you put something on the Victrola first,” she said in a low voice. “Something with a sultry rhythm that goes on for at least a half hour… ”

Though it varied depending on the circumstances and whatever surprises husband and wife had planned for each other, their Christmas celebrations tended to follow a general pattern: Harold would put something soft and romantic on the Victrola, then they’d exchange gifts, then they’d banter back and forth about their gifts. Then, when their flirtation had built to a fever pitch and the mood between them was quite serious, Harold would ask Marian for a dance. This inevitably led to outright canoodling, and they’d spend the rest of the evening blissfully wrapped in a heated embrace. Harold grinned as Marian reclined on the sofa and he hastened over to the Victrola – Christmas was definitely his favorite time of year.

But this holiday season had been a bit more challenging, for both him and Marian. The girls no longer contemplated the concept of Santa visit with bright, childish grins and, although Harold knew this was normal and necessary, it saddened him a little. In only a few short years his daughters would be leaving home to make their own way in the world and, while he was pleased and proud to see what fine young women they were turning out to be, the day would come when he was no longer able to protect them. Like Marian, Harold was especially concerned about Penny, as he recognized in her the same wanderlust he had wrestled with for most of his adult life. Elly, on the other hand, was likely to settle down pretty young – if not with Teddy, then another local boy who caught her fancy. But Harold had the distinct premonition Penny’s path would lead her far away from River City – someday, he knew, his eldest daughter would leave them all. And even though he felt a great deal of trepidation at the idea of sending his girl alone into the world, Harold hoped that when the time came, he’d be strong enough to let her go.

And then there was Marian. Although she never broached the subject, Harold knew how pained she was over Penny’s lack of faith and, by extension, his own. As much as he wanted to unequivocally believe in God to please his wife, the best he could do was hope. While Marian had never asked him for anything more than his tacit support of her religious endeavors – indeed, from the beginning she had accepted him exactly as he was, and her earlier conversation with Penny demonstrated the same unconditional love for their daughter – Harold suspected there would always be some small part of her that wished for more from both of them.

“Darling, is everything all right?” Marian asked gently, standing up from the sofa.

Lost in his ruminations, Harold hadn’t realized he was standing frozen, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Normally, he would have turned to his wife with a grin and assured her everything was just fine. After all, everything _was_ fine. But for some reason, he was having difficulty mustering up the energy to tell her this. It was therefore unsurprising that when he finally did manage to give Marian a smile and a nod, she came right over and caught him in a hug.

“Marian… ” Harold protested. He would have taken a step back, but the Victrola was blocking his way – there was nothing he could do but allow her to hold him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her in return, “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you… ”

“I know,” Marian said understandingly, and tightened her embrace.

Harold buried his face in her hair. “Darling… I really couldn’t have said it any better to Penny. You’re a good mother to our girls, and I know you’ll be a wonderful mother to our son. I might be able to sway our daughters with the right words, but you’re the true moral compass of our family – you’ve always been. If it wasn’t for you loving me the way you did – the way you _do_ – I don’t know where I’d have ended up. And it’s not something I can contemplate without a shudder, even so many years later. Every day, I thank whatever fortune, fate or deity brought us together. I needed you, Marian – I still do.”

Pulling away a little, Marian smoothed a curl from his forehead and looked steadily into his eyes. “Harold… what I said to Penny also holds true for you. I love you, Harold Gregory Hill – no matter what you believe.”

In one of those rare moments for him, Harold could find no words. He couldn’t even move. All the silver-tongued music professor could do was stare at his wife, not knowing whether he should feel grateful she had told him exactly what he wanted to hear, or ashamed he had allowed that little sliver of doubt about Marian to unsettle him. Harold knew he should say something – anything – to express the depth of his love for her, and cursed his famous composure for abandoning him at such a crucial moment.

But as she gazed back at him, Marian’s eyes glistened with tearful joy. Realizing vulnerable uncertainty had an eloquence of its own, Harold pressed forward, kissing his wife deeply and passionately. When Marian pressed against him just as eagerly, Harold knew he had given her the ardent response she was longing for in return.

Indeed, when they eventually broke apart, Marian regarded him with that wonderfully sly smile of hers and coyly lifted her arm until the mistletoe was dangling above his head. Marveling to see that she had managed to hold onto the tiny sprig all this time, Harold grinned and pulled his wife into another heated embrace. Although he was the one who took the lead in backing her across the parlor, her hips swayed against his in an unmistakable dance of seduction. Soon husband and wife tumbled onto the couch together, the mistletoe falling to the floor along with their nightclothes as they wished each other Merry Christmas in a far more intimate fashion than kisses.


End file.
